


Happy Valentines Day

by wheresmywatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John cancels a date for Sherlock again, M/M, lap dance, strip club, valentines day, wanking in a bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheresmywatson/pseuds/wheresmywatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs John's help with a case on Valentines Day, but John has a date planned with Sarah. It doesn't take much convincing for John to change his plans and follow Sherlock out to a strip club, but he certainly wasn't expecting it to be a <i>gay</i> strip club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Valentines Day

Winking at himself in the mirror before scowling at how utterly embarrassing that was, John smoothed down his suit jacket once more and exited the bathroom. He was confident with the way he looked and most certainly looking forward to his date that night. It was Valentines Day and Sarah was giving him a second chance. Life was good.

Sherlock was in the living room – as usual – when John made his way out. The man had been stretched out on the sofa the last time John had gone past, but now he was sitting up with his phone in one hand and a folder in the other.

"A new case from Lestrade?" John asked as he grabbed his wallet and slipped it into his pocket.

"Mm," Sherlock muttered, not looking up as he was spoken to. He set his phone down on the coffee table and flicked through the folder quickly, frowning at something. "Someone's been smuggling drugs into a strip club, but all the police have been able to find so far have been packets of sugar. Lestrade's asked me if I can get inside to see what's going on. As usual, they need someone _not_ on the force to bend a few rules."

"That sounds like fun," John said sarcastically, grinning and pulling his coat on as he headed to the door. "Anyway, I'm off out. Don't wait up for me. I'm uh... not really planning on coming home tonight. If you know what I mean."

Sherlock looked up suddenly, frowning across at John.

"No, I need you to come with me."

Raising his eyebrows and spinning back, John let out a short laugh. "No. No way, Sherlock. I have a _date_."

"Reschedule it for tomorrow night," Sherlock said with a flippant shrug as he stood up and picked his phone up again. "The club's only open a couple of nights each week and if we don't catch them now we never will. Think about how many people will have bought the drugs then. You're a doctor, I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to stop some idiotic teenagers from ruining their lives."

"You can't do that!" John complained loudly. "I'm not coming and I don't care what you say. If some kids are stupid enough to buy drugs, it's their own fault-"

"It's a strip club, John." Sherlock put the folder down and waited patiently as his flatmate glared at him.

John really, really wanted to say no. It was awful, really, turning down a date with Sarah just so he could go somewhere else and get lap dances from strangers. Of course it was for a case, but he and Sherlock both knew what the deciding factor would be right now.

"You are the absolute worst flatmate I have ever had the misfortune of sharing with," John snapped, folding his arms as he finally caved in.

Sherlock only smirked. "I'm the _only_ flatmate you've ever had. Now stop complaining and get us a cab. You might also want to text Sarah as well to let her know not to go to the restaurant you booked unless you want her to be waiting for half an hour with no date."

John winced at Sherlock's words and pulled his phone out of his pocket, not liking the idea of having to call Sarah and make up an excuse but also thinking that only a _text_ would be a really cruel thing to do. Sherlock swept off to his room to grab some extra things he apparently needed for their case and John finally made up his mind.

"John! I didn't get the time wrong, did I? Am I late?"

"No, not at all. Uh, the thing is, Sarah... I'm actually going to have to call it off."

"...What?"

"Yeah, look, I hate to do this but something else really important has come up and I have to help a friend-"

"Sherlock, right?"

"I didn't say-"

"It's fine. I get it, honestly. Have a nice night and I'll see you at work."

"Maybe we could go somewhere tomorrow night?"

"I'm rather busy, actually... Sorry John. Good bye."

With a heavy sigh, John put his phone back in his pocket and headed outside to hail a cab. Sherlock soon appeared behind him and they entered the cab silently as John was feeling bitter about being manipulated – and guilty about being excited – while Sherlock was busy reading over the text that Lestrade must have sent him.

When they reached their destination, after Sherlock thankfully pulled his head away from his phone long enough to tell the cabbie where to go, John got out and waited to be told what to do next. As eager as he was to get inside and pretend to help Sherlock while staring at all the women, John didn't even know what the place looked like and didn't want to run in through the wrong door.

"Alright," Sherlock said from beside him, rubbing his hands together. After a moment he steered John forward and pointed out which door led to where they wanted to go. "I'll need you to go through the front and try to keep a low profile while I see what I can find out around the back. You'll need this to get in-" He pressed what looked like a membership card into John's hand. "-and I'll join you as soon as I can."

"What do I do until you find me again?" John asked quickly, looking down at the card and frowning as there were absolutely no identifying features on it at all except for a small symbol in the top right corner of one side. What sort of a club was this?

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched before he said, "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you'll be able to amuse yourself." He took a step away before suddenly John's hand was on him, holding him back.

"Are we really here on a case? I mean... this isn't your version of a weird Valentines gift, is it?" John was still very confused about the whole situation, especially now that Sherlock had basically given him free reign over the strip club for the beginning of the night.

Sherlock tilted his head to one side as he paused briefly. "Is that _today_?" Without waiting for a reply, he strode away and left John to stand outside the door to the club by himself.

Taking a deep breath, John shook his head to clear it and then walked over to the door to the club, joining the small trickling line of people and showing the card Sherlock had given him once he was asked for it.

As soon as John was through the door and into the room, his eyes went wide in disbelief and he froze where he stood, forcing a couple of people to step around him. " _What?_ " Taking in the room full of nothing but men, John took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. "Oh Sherlock, I hate you so much."

It was a gay strip club.

There was a stage at the far wall where men were parading around in not much clothing to begin with and still finding something to remove and fling at the crowd. There were poles at various places in the room with men spinning around them and there were male waiters wandering through the crowd, getting guests what they wanted and flirting as they went.

John swallowed stiffly and considered turning around and going straight back out, to hell with Sherlock's case, but he also knew there'd be nothing else to do. He had already cancelled on Sarah and didn't think she'd be too happy about him crawling back just because there had been no female strippers – that really did sound terrible, didn't it?

So, keeping his mind focused on the fact that there was a case, John made his way to an empty seat and tried to keep to himself, politely turning away a few waiters who came by to see if he needed anything – one even offering him a lap dance.

It was half an hour later when John was really beginning to get uncomfortable. He had no idea how much longer he would have to wait here but knew it must look suspicious to be so uninvolved with everything. It wasn't helping that he was actually beginning to get interested in the men around him. Some of their bodies and the way they moved were captivating.

Wetting his lips nervously, John stuttered his way through accepting a drink when another waiter came up to him, deciding it was about time he allowed himself to get more involved. It was just for a case anyway, he told himself. He was pretending to be interested so that he could find out what was going on – which Sherlock hadn't even begun to tell him about and he hadn't asked about because he had been so caught up in the idea of a free lap dance from a gorgeous woman.

He was really regretting his decision.

"You look comfortable," came a low voice from behind him, and John put his drink down on the table beside him, relief flooding his body as he recognised Sherlock's voice immediately.

"Finally," John exclaimed, turning around as Sherlock walked to stand in front of him as well. "I was wondering when you'd... you'd..." His eyes widening, John found that he couldn't speak anymore. Sherlock had changed from what he was wearing before to a pair of incredibly tight leather pants and a pair of boots. He wasn't wearing anything else.

Sherlock smirked at him and moved closer, leaning over the chair and cradling John's face in his hand gently. John gulped and tried not to look at Sherlock's crotch, the image of which was now already seared onto his brain and he didn't think he'd be able to forget for at least a year.

"Oh... my god. Are you- What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock said, trailing his other hand down John's chest and then pushing the man's coat off his shoulders. "I'm blending in so that we can do our work without anyone feeling like they need to be cautious around us. I wasn't able to find anything useful out the back. Have you seen anything out here, yet?"

Stuttering as Sherlock's hands continued to move over him, John shrugged. "I-I don't know what I'm meant to be looking for!"

"Dealers, John. Someone in this club is trying to pass drugs onto another person who will then take them out and sell it to stupid teenagers."

Taking a deep breath, John nodded and glanced over Sherlock's shoulder at all the other people in the room. Maybe, if he could think past the feeling of Sherlock's hands on him, he'd be able to spot someone who looked like they were in the middle of a drug deal. He should have been looking for that as soon as he arrived, but he'd been quite shocked.

"I hate to pull you out of your comfort zone like this," Sherlock murmured, leaning closer to John so that his breath was gently hitting John's face. "But for this to be convincing you're going to have to pretend you're interested in me or I might get thrown out for harassing the guests."

"Yeah," John said quickly, lifting his hands to hold Sherlock's hips as the man straddled him. "Wouldn't want you to be thrown out and leave me to finish the case without you."

"Exactly," Sherlock agreed, his fingers playing with the buttons of John's shirt. "I didn't know you owned a suit like this. It's nice."

Chuckling humourlessly and still looking over Sherlock's shoulder to try and distract himself, John nodded his head. "Thanks. I don't really have a lot of reasons to wear a suit anymore and I only wore it tonight because I had booked a nice place to take Sarah. She probably hates me, now."

"Focus," Sherlock reminded him gently, dipping his head down to press his lips against John's throat.

John let out a strangled sound and lifted his chin, finding it unbelievably difficult to concentrate with his flatmate's lips on his skin. It felt like a thousand electric bolts had been pumped through him and his entire body was sensitive to Sherlock's touch. Without meaning to, his hands tightened on Sherlock's hips and pulled forward, stretching the man's leather pants even more as his legs parted further over John's lap.

He really hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice how he was reacting to the situation, but as soon as the thought passed through his mind he cursed himself inwardly.

Glancing down and then quickly raising his eyebrows, Sherlock commented, "Have I mentioned that you're a fantastic actor?"

"That's, uh- that's not acting, Sherlock. Please shut up."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face before he nodded and pushed his hips even further forward to connect with John's.

"This will work to our advantage," he said as John gasped loudly. "You can do the work of making us look real while I find the dealer. Yes?"

John let his head fall back against the chair he was sitting in and let out a groan. "Oh f... It's been far too long since I last got laid. Please don't stop. Ah..." He had to admit it was a bit embarrassing to be so aroused beneath _Sherlock Holmes_ of all people, but at least the other man hadn't teased him about it yet. And in John's defence, Sherlock was _shirtless_ and _very good looking_. There was only so much a man could take with someone like that on their lap.

"Okay, so," John cleared his throat and shifted his hands, his fingers brushing against Sherlock's bare skin. "Got any idea who it is yet?"

"I need to get a better look at the room," Sherlock said, looking as though he had completely tuned out of what was going on beneath him. He was frowning and suddenly stood up from John's lap, making the other man whine from the lack of contact. "Keep your eyes on me, John. I'll do the looking around."

 _Easy_ , John thought to himself, fixing his eyes to Sherlock's chest and letting out a heavy breath. He'd never had any reason to focus on the other man's body before, even though he'd seen it when Sherlock would walk around in his dressing gown or just a sheet. Now that he _was_ looking, though, he couldn't take his eyes away. Sherlock was a bit thinner than was healthy, but his skin looked so smooth.

Before John could continue with his train of thought, Sherlock pushed his hips forward and moved them in small circles in John's view, his hands reaching to stroke over John's chest as he'd been doing before. With a large and obvious wink, Sherlock then turned around and pushed his arse towards John, the leather of his pants stretching.

John gulped again and gripped the arms of his chair tightly. His erection was straining painfully against his suit trousers and he had to use all of his self control not to just reach in and wank so he would feel better.

It didn't help when Sherlock lifted his arms above his head and began dancing around in a circle, moving his body in ways similar to the obvious trained professional who were moving around poles in the room. John wet his lips with his tongue and shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly to run a hand over Sherlock's thigh as he turned.

Almost immediately, Sherlock's eyes were trained on him again and he was frowning.

"You've never had a lap dance before, have you?" he asked.

Dropping his hand back down, John simply shrugged. He didn't trust himself to talk since he was so unbelievably aroused and could only watch as Sherlock grabbed his tie and pulled him forward until their faces were mere millimetres away.

"Hands to yourself, Soldier."

A rush of heat shot up to John's face and he swallowed stiffly, incredibly turned on from being ordered around by Sherlock. Having been to the army and having seen the horrible reality of the place, John had never imagined himself with such a kink. But hell if he didn't want to test Sherlock's boundaries and see how much further he would take it.

Now was not the time, though. They were on a _case_.

Sherlock had already gone back to his awfully sexual dancing and John risked a quick brush of his hand over his own erection, giving himself a bit of friction to work against.

"Oh," Sherlock breathed suddenly, frustration suddenly clear on his face as he gazed across to the other side of the room. "Why didn't I see that earlier?"

Swallowing and trying to keep himself together, John asked, "See what? Have you spotted the dealers?"

Sherlock looked down at him and shook his head before grabbing his arm and helping him to stand, ignoring as John winced slightly and shifted his trousers to a more comfortable position.

"The sugar, John. All the police could find were bags of sugar." Waiting, Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"I don't get it," John said with a sigh, wishing he could sit back down and let Sherlock continue- _wait, what?_ "You're going to have to spell it out for me, like usual."

"Well, where were they getting the sugar?" Sherlock asked excitedly, a spark of light returning behind his eyes. John shifted uncomfortably and shook his head again. "Oh, fine," Sherlock groaned, running a hand through his hair. "All that really matters is that now I know where they're keeping the drugs. They've swapped it with the sugar, which would have come from a sweet factory or store. It narrows the search down significantly _and_ it means we're not in danger of anything happening tonight."

"How do you know that?" John asked, before holding up a hand to silence Sherlock before he went off on another spiel. "Forget it. Just... are we done here, then? Because I'd really like to, uh- you know. Take care of this." John looked away from Sherlock as he gestured vaguely at his erection.

"Of course," Sherlock nodded with a small smirk. "I can show you where the bathroom is, if you'd like?"

"Make it quick and I don't want to hear any jokes about this in the future, do you understand?" John snapped as Sherlock began leading him over to one side of the room. "Besides, my mind was on a club filled with _women_ so you can't exactly blame my body for reacting like this." He was twisting the situation of course, making it sound as though Sherlock hadn't actually been the one to give him his erection.

"Not a word," Sherlock promised, pushing open the door to the bathroom and smiling as John strode past him quickly and entered one of the stalls. Sherlock walked in after him slowly, waiting by the sinks for John to finish.

When John made his way over to the sinks, he was glaring at Sherlock.

"It's not really polite to wait in the same room as someone you _know_ is having a wank," he said as he washed his hands.

Sherlock was silent as John then dried his hands and moved to stand in front of him, waiting. Standing a bit straighter, Sherlock then reached out to gently cradle John's face again, smoothing his long fingers over the man's skin. He licked his lips and began leaning in, causing John's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Sherlock," he said quickly, pressing one hand against Sherlock's bare chest to stop him. "I'm not-"

"Gay," Sherlock finished with a nod. "You don't have to be."

John's lips had parted without his realising and when Sherlock closed the distance between them he felt as though he could almost taste the other man's tongue. It didn't last very long and then Sherlock was moving away again, gesturing for John to follow him out of the bathroom.

But John could still feel the ghost of Sherlock's lips against his and his face had gone red again. He trailed after Sherlock in a daze, oblivious to the exchange between Sherlock and one of the bouncers of the club – "You can't use this exit. Workers go out the back." "It's a good thing I don't work here then, isn't it?"

Once they were outside, Sherlock hailed them a cab and they continued to stand in silence, not speaking to or even looking at each other.

Finally a cab pulled up and John moved forward to get in, only being stopped as Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder to make him pause. He glanced over his shoulder only to look away again as he saw Sherlock leaning forward, and then he felt a shiver run down his back as the other man's lips pressed against his ear.

"Happy Valentines Day, John."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about 5 hours today. I hope it's okay, I just really wanted to get something out for Valentines Day. Also I'm sorry if any of their characterisation is out a bit, or if I've gotten strip clubs completely wrong. I've never actually been to one, so I have no idea what goes on inside.
> 
> Also, I don't have a mind like Sherlock's so I'm sorry about my pathetic excuse for a case and its sort-of-conclusion.
> 
> I'm tired good night.


End file.
